by Ann McMan
She unlocked the Jeep, climbed inside, and set her coffee in the console holder between the front seats. But it’s not like I mind, either. She smiled to herself. An idea she’d had percolating for a few weeks came to mind again. She decided to go ahead and ask Syd about it.
Maybe tonight. Tonight. Jesus. David. He’ll be impossible. I must be crazy. She started the Jeep. I am crazy. She drove out of the parking lot and headed west toward Jericho.
SYD WAS ELATED when the front door to the library opened and she saw Maddie, dressed in blue scrubs, stride across the carpet toward her. Maddie was carrying a small, aluminum toolbox. When she reached the circulation desk, she set the box down and calmly regarded her.
“Does something here need a doctor?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But I didn’t realize that you made house calls.” She crossed her arms. “How much is this gonna cost me?”
Maddie scratched her chin thoughtfully. “How much you got back there in petty cash?”
Syd backed up, pulled open a drawer, and sifted through its contents. “About four dollars and seventy-five cents. In quarters.” She looked up at Maddie hopefully. “Will that be enough?”
“Hmmm. Lucky for you, I’m not really licensed to practice here, so I can be flexible about my fee.”
“What if I sweeten the deal and let you be the first person in the county to check out a copy of—” she reached behind her chair to an overloaded book truck and randomly snagged a volume, “Glenn Beck’s Common Sense?”
Maddie raised an eyebrow.
“You’re right.” Syd tossed the volume back onto the truck. “I should pay you double-time just for having the gall to suggest that.” She smiled at her. “I take it you heard my tale of woe from Michael?”
“Something like that. I ran into him in Wytheville after making patient calls at the hospital. He told me that he saw you over here going fifteen rounds with your photocopier.”
“I couldn’t quite go the distance—the damn thing had me on the ropes in about a nanosecond.”
“Well, don’t throw in the towel just yet. Maybe there’s some life left in it.”
Syd stood there deliberating for a minute. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve completely exhausted all the boxing metaphors I know. Will you take a look at it anyway?”
Maddie lifted her toolbox. “I make no promises but lead on.”
They walked to the rear of the building.
“I had no idea that you were such an accomplished repairman. I now understand why you have broken vacuum cleaners strewn all over your garage.”
Maddie laughed. “It’s true. Remember I told you about taking my mother’s piano apart? What I didn’t tell you was that I generally could get things back together pretty well, too. Dad and I usually had something we were breaking down and rebuilding—lawnmowers, tractors, airplane engines—the list went on and on.”
Syd stopped her. “Did you just say airplane engines?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“The mental image of an airplane engine lying in pieces around your barn doesn’t help ameliorate my morbid fear of flying.”
Maddie set her toolbox down next to the still disassembled copier. “You just haven’t flown with the right person.” She knelt next to the copier. “So tell me what happened here.”
Syd sighed. “Beats me. Roma Jean was copying some inventory sheets for me when it jammed. Instead of stopping it, she kept hitting the copy button.” She rolled her eyes. “Half a ream of paper later, it shut itself off and hasn’t booted-up since. I tried to un-jam it but I think there still must be paper caught someplace that I can’t access.”
“You’re probably right. Has it been disconnected from its primary power supply?”
Syd stood there regarding her with a deadpan expression. “Why do you repair types always lapse into this obfuscated techno-speak when you’re around us mere mortals?”
Maddie sighed. “Is it unplugged?”
Syd knelt and held up the three-pronged end of a fat power cable. “Yep.”
“Okay.” Maddie squatted next to the unit and pulled out the two paper trays. She flipped a series of concealed green levers inside the machine that unlocked the roller assemblies. She stood up and did the same thing beneath the platform at the output door. The side panel dropped down and a wad of crinkled paper was visible, wedged beneath the feed tires. She opened her toolbox and took out a pair of long tweezers. She carefully extracted the accordion-shaped wads of paper.
“Once we get all of this out of here, we need to look at the pick-off fingers. It might be that the separator is pulling in more than one sheet at a time. What weight paper are you running in this?”
“What?” Syd was watching Maddie with fascination. “I’m sorry. I’m just amazed that you knew how to do this. You said something about finger picks?”
Maddie laughed. “Pick-off fingers. They’re those little grabbers that snag the individual sheets of paper from the trays. They can get clogged with dust and paper fiber and don’t work properly. What kind of paper are you using in this thing?”
Syd picked up a crumpled wad. “White?”
Maddie pulled the last piece of crushed paper away from the rollers. “Well, that’s a start. Do you have one of the unopened packages?” She began to lock everything back into place as Syd walked to a shelf and retrieved an unopened ream of the paper.
“Here it is.” She read from the edge of the package. “500 sheets. Bright white. Smooth finish. 20#.” She looked up. “Does that tell you anything?”
Maddie nodded. “Yep. It’s cheap. You need to run at least a 24# weight in these things or they get really cranky. This lighter-weight stuff is very prone to curling—especially if you store too much of it in the trays.” She slid the two paper trays back into place after removing about half of the paper from each one. “How many reams of this stuff do you have left?”
Syd looked behind them at the storage shelf. “About five.”
“Maybe you can call your supplier and exchange it for the heavier weight. If not, just keep the trays about a third full until you run through it all. It also will help if you keep the unopened reams in a cardboard box. Don’t ask me why, but they seem to resist curling better if they’re stored that way. I think it’s some kind of humidor effect.” She paused. “You could keep your cigars in there, too.”
Syd gave her a blank look.
“Just seeing if you were still paying attention.” She stood up. “Okay. Let’s plug ’er in and see what happens.”
Syd plugged in the unit, and Maddie pushed its power button. After a second, it beeped, and the display panel illuminated. The readout panel flashed its ready to copy message.
Syd’s jaw dropped. “I so do not believe this.”
Maddie stood back and regarded her with a smug expression. “That’s nothing. You should see me fix a broken person.”
They were quiet for a moment.
Syd gave her a small smile. “Would that cost me more than four dollars and seventy-five cents?”
Maddie’s blue eyes searched her face. “You aren’t broken.”
Syd shrugged. “Opinions on that vary.”
They stared at each other.
Maddie opened her mouth to speak. They swung around at a loud crash. The back door to the branch stood wide open, and a red-faced Roma Jean Freemantle was splayed across the floor next to an upturned waste can. She was staring up at Maddie in embarrassment and dismay.
Maddie and Syd looked at each other for a moment before smiling and walking back to help Roma Jean to her feet.
MICHAEL HAD SET a table for the four of them in front of the stone fireplace located at the back of the dining room, close to the kitchen. A smattering of guests dined at other tables spread out across the room, but, typically, business was slow during the days leading up to the holiday weekend, so they were able to relax and enjoy a leisurely meal.
Apart from the stuffed goose, which was anything but dry, Michael served whole
green beans tossed with toasted hazelnuts and brown butter, wildflower honey- and whiskey-glazed sweet potatoes, a pineapple and roasted poblano salsa, and zucchini and cranberry mini-muffins. Most of the dinner conversation was confined to talking about the food with Syd in a state of bliss about getting to experience it all again on Thursday evening.
Maddie pushed her plate away with dramatic intensity. “Make it stop. I can’t eat another bite.”
David plucked half of an uneaten muffin off her plate and popped it into his mouth. “So that would mean that you are not interested in sampling a piece of that chocolate, cashew, and maple pie I saw cooling back there in the kitchen?”
Maddie frowned as she seemed to consider her options. “I could maybe manage a tiny slice.”
“You’re such a weakling.”
Maddie looked him over. “This from a man wearing pink socks?”
“I refuse to be goaded by someone who blithely conflates fashion sense with femininity.” He took a healthy sip of his Chardonnay. “You’re a cretinous lout with the aesthetic sensibility of a Weimaraner.”
“A Weimaraner?”
David sat back and regarded her. “Tall. Aloof. Blue eyes. Inordinately fond of flannel bedding.” He batted his eyes at her. “Any of this sounding familiar?”
Maddie sighed. “I don’t know why I agreed to do this. You always get so fractious during the holidays.”
“Me?” David feigned umbrage. “You’re the one with the whole Mourning Becomes Electra complex.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that comment.”
Michael chuckled as he stood up and started collecting their plates.
Syd looked back and forth between the two antagonists. “Okay. I’ll bite.” She turned to David. “Clearly, you’re dying to explain.”
Maddie groaned as David leaned forward lacing his fingers together. “Well, just let me point out that our dear, reclusive physician here is the one with the deep-seated, mother-daughter, Chlamydia-Electra family drama going on.”
Maddie looked at him. “Chlamydia?”
“Duh,” David replied. “Electra’s mother?”
“That was Clytemnestra, you nimrod. Chlamydia is a venereal disease.” She paused. “I should think that you, of all people, would remember that.”
David stuck his tongue out at her as Syd stifled a cackle.
Michael walked back to their table, carrying the pie. “So, big slices all around?”
Syd expelled a deep breath. “My god, that looks amazing. Are you making another one of these on Thursday?”
“Sorry, sweet pea.” Michael cut a generous piece and handed a plate to Syd. “Your mama was specific about wanting pumpkin pie. This one is something special for Dr. Strangelove, there. She just loves maple.”
“That I do,” Maddie said, holding out her dessert plate. “Hurry up and dish, Wolfgang.”
“I thought you weren’t hungry?” David asked.
“Shut up.” Maddie dug into her pie with gusto.
David got up, went to the bar, and returned with a chilled bottle and four fluted glasses. “We picked up this really nice Shelton Blanc De Blanc when we were in North Carolina last week. It’s gonna go great with dessert.” He tore off the foil top and unscrewed the cage covering the cork. “We thought it might be nice for your folks to sample some of our finer Yadkin Valley wines.” He popped the cork without ceremony and poured Syd a glass.
“You guys have gone to entirely too much trouble for my parents. I love you both for it but I’m afraid that you’ve really put yourselves out.” She took a sip of the sparkling wine and smiled. “And if I drink much more of this wonderful stuff, I’ll have to be poured into Maddie’s Jeep.”
“That goes double for me,” Maddie said, covering the top of her champagne flute. “I can’t have anything else, or I won’t be able to drive us home.”
Michael smiled at them. “Lucky for you, we happen to know the innkeepers. Why don’t we just put you both up for the night? We’ve got a couple of empty rooms, so you can relax and enjoy yourselves.”
Maddie looked nervously at Syd. “I don’t know about that, Michael, we hadn’t planned on a slumber party.”
David batted her hand away from the top of her glass and poured her a generous serving of the wine. “Tomorrow is Sunday. The library is closed. The clinic is closed. With all due respect, you’re both pathetic loners with nothing better to do than stay up late and watch reruns of Storm Stories on the Weather Channel.”
“Pete—”
“Pete,” David interrupted, “is probably already in the barn, sacked-out on the hood of your overpriced Lexus. Relax. Sit a spell.” He winked at her, slyly, and dropped his voice. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She glowered at him. Then she cast a worried look at Syd, who sat watching the two of them with amusement. “What do you think?”
Syd handed her now empty champagne flute to David. “I’d like another glass, please.”
David laughed as he refilled her glass. He locked eyes with Maddie as he sat back down. “Our kind of girl.”
THEY SPENT THE rest of the evening laughing and talking, moving from the dining room to the smaller, front parlor where they shared another bottle of the Shelton wine before agreeing that it was time to retire for the night.
Michael walked them up the grand staircase and down the wide center hallway to two smaller rooms at the back of the house. The rooms were tastefully appointed with period antiques and had dormer windows that looked out over the sloping back lawn. Unlike most of the Inn’s larger rooms, these two shared a hall bathroom.
David joined them shortly, carrying two, folded sets of pajamas. “These should work for one night.” He handed a pair to Syd. They were a soft and tasteful Nick & Nora creation, decorated with fat counting sheep on a pastel background. “And these are for you, Sawbones.” He handed Maddie an oversized pair of faded red Dr. Denton’s.
Maddie unfolded the pants. “If these have a drop-seat, I’m so outta here.”
There was no drop-seat, but the pants had built-in booties.
“Nice.” She sighed as she draped the pants over her arm. “Why am I not surprised that you have these?”
“Quit complaining. It’s more than you usually sleep in.” He turned to Syd. “There are toiletries in a basket in each of your rooms. Help yourselves to whatever you need. We’ll be out back in our annex. Give us a call on the house phone if you need anything you can’t find.” He glanced at Maddie, who stood there frowning as she refolded her red pajamas. “However, that’s probably not likely to happen. Last time I looked under her hood, she was pretty well equipped.”
Maddie looked up and stared at him in disbelief. “Are you off your Ritalin again?”
Syd chuckled quietly.
Michael shook his head and kissed Syd on the cheek. “Sleep tight, cutie pie. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He walked to the still smoldering Maddie, grabbed her, and dipped her back dramatically and planted a kiss full on her mouth. “G’night, hot lips.” He stood up and released her, and then jerked his thumb at David. “C’mon, honey. Let’s leave the girls alone now.” Quietly whistling a refrain from “Meet Me In St. Louis,” he strode off down the hallway toward the stairs.
David stood there a moment longer. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Why?” Syd asked.
“Whenever he whistles Judy Garland tunes it means there ain’t gonna be much sleeping going on—if you get my drift.”
Maddie raised a palm. “Okay, that’s way too much information.”
“You don’t know the half of it. He’s really horrifying as Mickey Rooney.” David thought about that. “Even Mickey Rooney was horrifying as Mickey Rooney. I’m so not drunk enough for this tonight.”
Maddie laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Buck up, Judy. The show must go on.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I wonder where I left those shoulder pads?” He walked of
f toward the stairs, waving a hand over his head. “ ’Night, ladies.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he hit a switch and the lights went out, leaving Syd and Maddie standing together in near darkness. The only available light came from the blue glow cast by a small nightlight at the opposite end of the hallway. They heard a door open and close at the back of the house. Then it was deathly quiet—the only sound coming from the monotonous tick, tick, tick of the pendulum on the grandfather clock in the foyer below.
“This seems to happen a lot,” Syd said.
Maddie considered that. “You mean being subjected to lurid details of David’s private life?”
Syd laughed. “No. I mean that I seem to have acquired a remarkable ability to end up wearing someone else’s pajamas.”
“That’s true.” Maddie tapped an index finger against her lips. “Is this a chronic thing . . . or a more recent malady?”
“Oh, I’d say it’s a very recent malady.”
“Interesting. When did you first start exhibiting symptoms?”
“I think it started right about the time a tall, distracted person knocked about two dozen boxes of cookies into my grocery cart.”
“Hmmm. Tall person. Cookies. Strange pajamas. Not seeing a connection.”
“Maybe it’s not a medical condition.”
“I agree. You could just be a floozy.”
Syd threw her pajamas at her. Maddie caught them before they hit the floor. “Has it occurred to you that you’re always throwing things at me?”
Syd frowned. “You always catch whatever it is.”
“That might be true, but you’re not getting these back until you apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“Yes.”
“For hitting you with fat, flannel sheep?”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’d better pray there isn’t a house fire tonight so you won’t have to run screaming from your room in the unforgettable altogether.”
